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Imperfections
Central Tyger Pax(#11554Rnt) - Tyger Pax A pair of Vector Sentinels gaze down at you as you climb the stairs leading into the city proper... A grid of streets expands out from the central colonnade of Tyger Pax. The various buildings in the city are used for meetings, office space, and residential centers for visiting dignitaries. Open air theatres dot the city, and swarms of Keepers, mechs dedicated to the upkeep and running of the city, quietly hustle to their destinations. On the far side of Tyger Pax, overlooking the city on a steep acropolis, is the massive structure called Parthaplex, a silver and blue urban titan recalling a similar Autobot city fortress. It is here that Cybertron's highest councils meet. If the Great War were to end tomorrow, this is where the treaty would be signed. Halo smiles, standing in a small crowd of onlookers in one of Tyger Pax's open air theatres. A visiting Femax troupe is on stage, performing an ancient battle dance. She's holding a large but smartly designed aluminum case. Clutching it, actually, though she wouldn't realize she's doing so. Her Autobot brand earns her a few stray glances: the crowd is largely non aligned. Contrail is battle-damaged, which surely help sell her new toy that's on the market. However, presentable or not, she has people to bribe and informant to harass... all over Cybertron. Even under Primus's ineffable watch. Never did believe in him, anyway. But he's a convenient lie. If Decepticon brands get her glares, Contrail doesn't care. There's a librarian who handles new aquisitions, and she's going to tell him what he's going to be aquiring... Contrail walks briskly, soon passing near the crowd where Halo is, down-hanging wings maybe bonking into a few people... "exCUSE me..." Halo whirls around to face the passing Contrail. "Your wing just scraped my door!" Which was just recently glossed. It's of note that she's already flown off the handle and probably hasn't realized a Decepticon is responsible. "Apologize? Be civil and polite?" It should be noted that every piece of glass in Contrail is broken. Her red optic lenses are gone, leaving the mechanisms of her optics bare. Her cockpit's busted. Her paint's all been burned off. She turns to look at Halo. The light's a biit painful... with no lenses. It takes her a moment, and she rasps, "Autobot. Don't know you." A pause, and then, "Pity they don't teach your kind to watch out for people with wings." Halo is taken aback: first realizing that Contrail is a Decepticon, then feeling a decent amount of pity for her sorry state. "Wings are rather overrated..." The irony that her doors look like wings goes untapped. "My dear, you're all to pieces, aren't you? What Dinobot did you slag off?" She takes a step forward, almost prepared to help as she clapps politely along with the rest of the crowd for the end of the performance troupe's first number. "Wait." She stops, and tenses. "You're Contrail, aren't you? I thought you were the Decepticon Director of Intelligence, not a front line Seeker." After a moment, she relaxes. "I suppose there's not a lot you can do, between looking like you were passed by Unicron and these Vector Sentinels." "Sky Lynx," is Contrail's level reply as to which Dinobot she slagged off. She lived to talk about it. That's something. The Autobots have to have reported on that fight. It'll be public news. "I'm Contrail," she does admit, but she's oblique on the other point, "We all fight. You?" Then she half-smiles and adds, "...you looks like that 'scratch' is the worst damage you've ever seen." Halo can't help but smirk. "Oh I fight. I just get shot less than you do, apparently." She sighs, having a hard time looking at a mech in such terrible shape. "Look, I can't throttle you right now, because someone will step on me...Do you...?" She makes a face. "I mean, parts of you are hanging off." The mechanical shutters on Contrail's lenses optics blink a few times. Then, a little stunned, she asks, "Do I BOTHER you?" Is that seriously this Autobot's problem? Well, duh. "Don't *you* bother you right now? You look horrible." Halo sets down her case and subspaces a small toolkit in. "You look like something that Mindwipe painted after a Maccadam's binge." She produces a small atomic welder. "At least let me straighten your cockpit so I'm not haunted." Contrail is a monster. She's a murderer. A torturer. She's put drugs in Air Raid's drink! And what bothers Halo is that the Decepticon Director of Intelligence is a fashion disaster. Autobots are weird. Contrail takes a step closer to Halo and says skeptically, "Crooked cockpits haunt you?" Halo closes the gap, activating the torch. "Frankly I'm not sure if I should be terrified by you or just pity you. A ranking Decepticon, and you left Kaon like this. And with such a subtle contrast of navy blue and gunmetal. Completely wasted." She sounds genuinely saddened by this. "Most of your third and fourth wave brutes are just spats of blues, pinks, and lighting bolts. Just awful. The Director of Intelligence..." She pauses, focusing on reconnecting several key panels. "The Director of Intelligence should be taking a bit of pride in her appearance. Besides, after everything I've heard about Contrail..." She's a quick worker, and sooner than later, the cockpit is fixed. It's no medbay job, but it's not too shabby. "...I'm rather frustrated I encountered you looking like half a dead Seeker." Contrail is actually going to head to an outpost after this and get a medtech to strip her entire frame, checking for bugs, tracers, and drugs. She prompts idly, "Really. You wanted to meet me at the top of my game?" The Autobot's demeanor changes as she puts some finishing touches on Contrail's chestpiece. "If you're not at the top, I can't knock you down. Can I, Decepticon?" Halo eyes a passing Keeper, and then turns the glare back on Contrail. "Don't let the fact that Primus blessed me with perfect tail lights and that it's only right people should know that fool you." Must be X pretty to fight Halo, huh? Autobots continue to be weird. Contrail says slowly, "Would it hurt you, then, to be defeated by imperfection?" Halo gives Contrail a look. "Good try." But her actions have probably already spoken louder than her words, and a little research would reveal a weapon's designer with countless projects that have failed due to not looking visually stimulating. She steps back. "At any rate, you look less terrible now. Shame that I'll have to do something unspeakable to you in some battle or another. Beautiful line work on your chasis. Optimally aerodynamic and attractive." "I wonder," Contrail says slowly, "what you'd think of my creator. I'll forward you compliments." She puts a hand on her hip. Yeah, Contrail's going to do some research on Halo, after she gets her frame stripped and harasses that librarian. Halo gives Contrail a nod, retrieving her case off of the ground. "Have fun getting your dents removed." She transforms, and revs off into traffic under the watchful eyes of the patrolling Sentinels.